Royal Mistakes
by Fantabulasogurl
Summary: Everyone makes mistakes, but when you live your life under a spotlight, and intend to succeed the throne, your mistakes get just a bit bigger. Prince Percy of Seachester knows this better than anyone, and he's about to prove the statement without a shadow of doubt.
1. Chapter 1

A head full of bouncy blonde curls made their way up the stairs, and into the royal quarters. She kneeled down, careful to keep her eyes on the carpet, finding shapes and patterns among the intricate weaving. She carefully placed the tray on the end table, and set about readying the tea with the right amounts of sugar. The cup on the right, which was filled with bizarre tea leaves that made the tea a strange turquoise blue, had to be made with almost double the amount of sweeteners as the green cup on the left. Fumbling slightly Annabeth adjusted the kettle, careful to not touch anything but the handle.

"Um… hello?" A startled voice called from the door behind her. Annabeth leaped to her feet, and curtsied clumsily to the man standing in front of her. She hates this, hates the embarrassment that always makes her feel like a lesser human being around these kinds of people.

"I'm sorry your highness, I didn't mean to intrude, I was just setting up for your tea with his majesty, the king." She explained, still staring at the ground to exude humility. Striding forward, Prince Percy of Seachester, snatched a pastry off the plate with a grin towards his bashful new maid. Each and every maid that was every assigned to him was like this dainty and innocent, like that would somehow be able to help her survive against Percy's antics. Every maid knew it was a challenge upon walking in, often regarded as a punishment as no maid ever moved on, the majority of them quit or were fired. Being a maid was a challenge, on a daily basis, and housekeeping was just the start of it, the title would more aptly be personal assistant. She had been tasked with keeping Percy out of trouble, making sure he actually showed up at his appointments, and most importantly telling Queen Amphitrite at the first sign of him causing mischief, especially if it involved a girl.

"You're not from Electria, are you?" He guessed, falling graceless on the velvet love seat, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Annabeth flinched at the gesture. "What?" He asked, around the cookie in his mouth. Crumbs flew out of him mouth at awkward angles, and Annabeth can't help but feel a little sick.

"Nothing your highness." She lied, knowing already that housekeeping will be a hell of a lot harder on this one than any of the previous clients. He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You can tell me the truth, you know, I'm not a huge believer in formalities." He shrugged, and brushed his too long hair out of his eyes. It's a miracle Queen Amphitrite hadn't chopped it all off in his sleep. Annabeth fixed her gaze on the carpet once again. _Meek and Humble Annabeth, you are meek and humble._

"Nothing, your highness, just… I know you've been in the stables all day and…" She trailed off, knowing it was not her place to criticize her superiors for putting their shoes on the coffee table, even if she would have to scrub the table clean the moment he leaves the room. The Prince's expression changed almost instantly. He immediately swept his feet off the table and dropped them on the ground with a thud.

"Sorry, I didn't even think about the fact that you'll have to clean it up after I leave." He apologized, kicking off his boots in the process, and placing them beside the door. Hmm, Annabeth had served for all lot of people over the last three years of being a maid, and almost every one of them had been stuck up pigs, it had been her silent opinion that all nobles were. "Are you new?" He wondered; tilting his head and shaking his hair out of his vision, he must do that a lot. A flash of bright green peeked through the dangling fringe as he grinned up at her, at ease and on top of the world, just like the prince he is.

"I've been working for the Seachester royal family for the last few years but I'm new to your party." She explained, standing and edging to the door. She had spent the last few years catering to various passing nobles (insert eye roll here), and she should be thrilled to get this 'promotion'.

"I'll never understand why I go through maids so quickly." Percy mused, and she couldn't help but let a snort escape at that utterly ridiculous comment. Her eyes widened and a blush rose on her cheeks when she realized that the Prince had heard. He picked his head and up raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry your highness… allergies," She lied, forcing a smile. He laughs jovially before relaxing into the couch.

"Relax, even I know how ridiculous that sounded, and I thought I told you that I hate formalities, call my Percy." He ordered, before popping another cookie into his mouth. Glancing down at his lean shape, she had to wonder how he could eat this much. He grinned when he caught her staring and she resolutely glanced away, focusing back on the carpet, the bright yellows and oranges every present in Electria. Personally, she was partial to the blues and greens of Seachester, but she grew up in one of the border towns, so she absorbed a bit of both cultures. Technically, she was from Seachester, but she traveled with her father a lot growing up, spending a lot of time migrating around through all three kingdom divisions. Cursing a little she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Maids were never supposed to wear our hair loose, it wouldn't be proper, and even though she knew Percy would never care about something so frivolous, the Queen would. It's a wonder if he got any of Amphitrite's genes at all. Which may very well be the reason behind the vicious gossip in the court when the royals backs' were turned.

"Sure, Percy," She forced a smile, even though the word gets all jumbled in her mouth, scraping its way up her throat. Percy grinned at her before jumping to his feet and pulling his sneakers and coat on.

"See you…" He trailed off and cocked his head, realizing that he didn't know her name.

"Annabeth," She filled in, smiling a little once again before glancing down at her feet. Her ballet flats are really impractical for the lifestyle she lived, but it's another one of those ridiculous modesty and chastity things.

"See you around Annabeth," He grinned, before shrugging his coat on and starting out his door. "I have the feeling this is going to work out really well."

A/N: I have the next chapter ready to go, but I want to gauge the interest, so make sure you show it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Queen Amphitrite pursed her lips, as the servants bustled about. While the queen was known as rather strict and traditional, when you caught her on a good day, she was pleasant. Suffice to say, today was not a good day and it was all because of a certain Quiche. In Seachester, the cuisine was mainly based on fish, clams and what not. The queen was certainly not under cultured but she could never make the taste of Quiche agree with her. One bite and she usually shoved the tray away, but while dining with Hera, the Queen of Electria, she had to force herself to stomach it. Seachester was considerably smaller than Electria, and slightly less wealthy, despite its bustling trade ports: the Queen and her husband, King Poseidon always had to make an effort to appease the king and his wife. Part of life as a noble was fawning over your superiors, but it had never sat well with Amphitrite. What she wouldn't give to tell Hera that yes, the orange monstrosity that she calls a dress does in fact make her butt look bigger than her kingdom.

Unfortunately, that was not the way of the world, and now Amphitrite was trapped with her nausea, trying in vain to make her seamstress understand that she wanted a flattering gown for the next ball, not one that makes her look like she's charging by the hour and strutting down the street in too high heels. No matter how she attempted to get it across to the woman, she just nodded and returned to her sewing. Finally giving up, she dismissed the incompetent seamstress and sighed in defeat, wishing that her personal seamstress was here. Now that was a woman who knew how to work a needle.

As "magnificent' of a tradition this trip was, it was still a humongous pain in the Queens' plans. The last year all three royal families had gathered at Seachester; that was even worse, she will never ever be able to remove those wrinkles, but traveling all the way to the Capitol of Electria and staying for a month might just rival the stress levels. The original decree called it an effort towards unity between the three subkingdoms, but, to the Queen, it meant that the Seachester royal palace was left unguarded for a month. Albeit, there were soldiers and servants keeping things running at the palace, but it still didn't feel right leaving her home so open to attack.

She tilted her head when a maid slipped into the room. That was the strange thing about the help; they never busted, strutted, or stormed. She had to suppose that they had all the same emotions and reactions of nobles, they just never showed them in her presence: which was probably pretty smart now that she thinks of it. Anyone ranting and raving wouldn't be seen within the walls of the palace, any palace, ever again. The help must be seen, but never heard or noticed. It was a rule; one of those rules that has been around since the beginning of time and will be around till the end of the world, at least as far as the Queen was concerned.

Smoothing the wrinkles in her gown, the Queen strided forward, hardly acknowledging the startled maid, she didn't hate the girl, of course, she wouldn't have any reason to, but there were appearances that needed to be kept up. A queen could never be seen wallowing around with the lower classes. That's not to say, she and her husband weren't generous, of course, and if anything they were too charitable: after eight years of service, the maids earned a small pension, and while they were working, their families got weakly payments. They weren't enough to support a family on their own, but considering the poverty rates in the countryside, along with the orphan rates, they surely helped a lot. Of course, King Poseidon was always itching to increase the family payments, and it was only the Queen's insistences, that they needed the emergency funds, that kept him under control. The king could never find time, or get away from his responsibilities for long enough to personally help, so he made up for it by financially contributing as much as possible. The man was burdened with a conscience that was much too big for his status; but the Queen loved him despite his excessive generosity, in her own way. Being a queen is a mass of contradictory statements: be a lady, but be strong; don't question you king's opinion, but speak up if something is wrong; support your king, but be honest with him; more than anything else, the king must have an heir and fidelity among royal couples is paramount.

As much as Amphitrite loved her husband, Percy was a thorn in her side. The fact of the matter was, he wasn't her son, the king had an affair with another woman who showed up and dropped the baby outside their bedroom door, with a note explaining she was dying of cancer. Percy knew, of course, the king had told him once he was old enough to understand, but it was kept from the general population, having convinced them that they kept his birth and her pregnancy under the wraps because they feared that the palace was infiltrated. The queen performed her part to perfection, though many commented on how detached the Queen seemed when she looked at her son, and the visible tension between the two rulers.

Percy was not the king's first child, Triton was the eldest son, from Amphitrite, but he lacked the heart and mind required to rule, and he left to explore the lands, and abdicated the throne. Knowing her duty, the Queen put her kingdom a head of herself, but throughout Percy's childhood, she only thinly veiled her disdain for the boy. The rumors erupted shortly afterward his arrival, and even though they were spot on, each whispered sneer was a punch to the stomach. Queen Amphitrite straightened her posture a bit more, and pushed her shoulders back, narrowing her eyes at the bustling servant.

Any sign of weakness could be exploited in these uncertain times. Ever since her husband and his two brothers overthrew their cruel father, there's been tension among them. Everyone knew that King Zeus got the best end of the deal and that Poseidon was bitter about the arrangement. Of course, he was never openly hostile, he was occasionally impulsive, but the king certainly was not stupid. Still, the underlying tension was present. Zeus was convinced that Poseidon was feuding against him and he kept an eagle-like eye on Percy. The magnifying glass also seemed to focus on Amphitrite, and she couldn't help but remember the way ants would catch on fire when the sunlight streamed through the clear surface. Even though the pressure and constant scrutiny were lead weights attached to her ankles, the woman constantly kept moving. She was a queen, and she would not be broken.

A/N: Just want to thank my beta, Percabethlvrknowsall, who helped me with this chapter and the previous.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to dance?" the girl hisses, her skirt flurries out as he twirls her, waltzing round and round the room. Thalia Grace is a sight to behold. Her dress is a shimmering gold that is ridiculously contrasting with the rest of her. The lace and shiny satin gives a regal, feminine type air to Thalia. Regal could describe Thalia, she is a crown princess after all, and she does have a weird type of elegance: A kind of-I'm-awesome-and- I-know-it confidence. The contrast was in her jagged black hair, and punk rock attitude. Satin and lace don't quite fit that image. Leather and spikes might've been a better fit.

He snide comments bring the Prince's blood to a boil. This was why he seriously considered ditching the ball. It wasn't as if he hadn't had other offers. He glanced over his shoulder at Lady Lillian; who was seemingly deep in conversation with some finely dressed man, a duke most likely, seemingly being the operative word. She turned for a moment and flashed her million dollar smile at him, before returning to her conversation with the duke. Unfortunately, the moment had passed for him to avoid the unfortunate occasion.

Here he is, dancing with the soon to be Queen of Electria. She never ceased to remind him that she was the eldest cousin. In the same agreement that dictated the one-month trips, there was a decision about the division of the border areas; the eldest cousin inherited them for their kingdom. That meant Thalia is and would continue to be the most influential ruler, and she never let him forget who had the power.

Now, they were supposed to be strengthening the bonds of family. The pathetic part is that it was said with no traces of sarcasm. Their parents actually expected them to build ties. The two were sort of friends, sort of. The daily struggle included them trying not to kill each other. They were very much similar in that sense. Passionate, not the most rational duo, and no matter how much they fought, they were still loyal and brave, to each other and their kingdoms. Thalia's temper was legendary, most of the legends evolving from skirmishes with The Prince she's currently dancing with.

"Seriously Percy, that's the third time you've stepped on my foot." The Princess complains. It was a rare occasion when Thalia did use his actually title. Maybe it was because she hated being called that herself; Princess was not a typical term used to describe Thalia. Rebel was probably more accurate.

"Sorry, I'm distracted. My minds been a little occupied lately." Percy mutters under his breath. Thalia laughs, rolling her eyes. Sometimes that got on his nerves, how patronizing she was towards him. She always acted like she was better, just because she was older, she was of course, but that didn't mean she could rub it in.

"I got that; she's pretty isn't she?" She agrees, her electric blue eyes twinkling dangerously. Percy runs through the memories of all the girls he has been around lately, despite the fact that he likes Lady Lillian well enough, he knows for a fact that Thalia doesn't approve, she's been deemed trashy and annoying. Thalia positively refuses to be subjected to years of dinners with her. The prince just rolled his eyes.

"Who are you talking about, exactly?" He finally gives up and asks, causing Thalia to laugh again; that twinkle back in her eyes at full force. That's a very dangerous expression on Thalia's face. It usual meant that Percy was about to be in deep, deep trouble.

"I hear you've gotten a new maid, it'll be fun having her living next-door." Thalia laughs again, "Though I'm positive she's already going nuts, having to deal with you, all the time. Then again,you've probably shown her that charming side everyone claims you have." a grin spreading across her face. The prince could feel his face burning as he glanced across the ball room, where Annabeth was standing at attention, holding a server's tray in the corner of the room, out-of-the-way of the party goers. There was no way he could ever stand that still, for that long. Her blonde curls were up in a modest up do, making an effort to blend in. However, in all truth, she was much prettier than many of the noble women that pounded on makeup to no avail.

"Knock it off Thalia," He grumbles under his breath, knowing he doesn't have a usable comeback. He was never quick with comebacks, and Thalia always was the more articulate out of the two. It's not like he had never had a relationship with his maid; but they went into it knowing that it couldn't go anywhere. He had to marry royalty; it was his duty as a prince.

"Someone's uncomfortable." She teases, as the song ends. He bows to her, resisting the urge to jump for joy that he can finally end this unfortunate necessity of a social requirement. Every time he was forced to dance with Thalia, she somehow managed to make him feel like a bumbling oaf.

"I've stolen too much of your time already, your highness." He says the words through a clenched jaw and more of a grimace than a smile, but Thalia laughs, as she finds the next Prince craving a dance with the next Queen of Electria and future holder of the greatest power in the surrounding lands.

"May I have a dance, your highness?" Someone from behind him asks. He turns to find a beautiful maiden standing there: smiling and looking up at him through lowered eyelashes. Her brown hair is up in a tight bun, and she slides forward, taking his hand in hers before he can answer.

"I don't think we've been introduced." Percy observes, remembering that he should exercise a little more, social grace, despite the fact that he'd much rather be at the beach than at a ball. She smiles at him sweetly.

"I don't believe so, your highness, I'm Silena Beauregard." She introduces herself as the song starts. Silena didn't have any complaints about his dancing, thankfully, the Prince isn't sure if he could take it if somebody else criticized him tonight. He glances around the hall, trying to place her with a family. As far as he knows, she isn't a princess or a queen; he can remember the majority of those faces.

"It's okay, I wouldn't expect you to remember," She assures him, smiling good-naturedly. That's when he notices how truly beautiful she is. Her appearance is flawless, but that considerate nature is what really makes it sink. "My mother's Baroness Aphrodite." Silena explains, nodding to her mother, who stands, clad in red chatting with a cloud of followers: the majority of them male. Percy withholds his comment, The Baroness had been married and divorced too many times to count, the majority of the marriages including children. Silena's one of many. If there's anyone, more gossiped about than the central Royal family, it's Aphrodite.

"Ahem," Someone coughs from behind the couple. Percy turns, finding The Queen standing behind him. The jewels in her blue gown caught the light, reflecting it onto his suit. "May I have a word with my son?" She asks Silena, who nods politely as he steps away and moves his hand off her lower back. He steps off the dance floor after the Queen. He's not a genius, but he's not an idiot either, he notices the way she says "son", hating the word. Her son is Triton; Percy's just the black sheep.

Even growing up, he knew that she hated him; he saw it in the way that she ignored him, glared at him scathingly when backs were turned. It took years for him to realize that was not how most mothers treated their children, and it was years after that, when his father finally explained that his mother wasn't the Queen. At first, he hated his father, and the stupid mistake he had made repulsed him. After some time, he accepted that he just had to move on; he couldn't change the fact that the Queen would always hate him and his birth was a mistake. He accepted his duty as the new crown prince and continued to put on his act, but he hated that pressure. His life was a lie and just once, he wanted to be honest.

"When I said that you need to find a suitable wife, Silena Beauregard was not who I had in mind." The Queen hisses at him, her eyes narrowing. He's gum underneath her stiletto as far as she's concerned, and she's made that infinitely clear to him.

"Last time I checked there isn't a ring on her finger; I've said three words to the girl." He protests, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, because that's not respected in polite society, apparently, before finding Silena again. As he talks to her, he spots Annabeth, still standing there, ready for a request from a party goer, like she was a lesser human. Does she ever just relax? Right then and there, he decides he wants to know the softer, more personal side to his maid: maybe as much more than his servant.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**_Percy_**

Munchkins are doing a tap dance in the prince's brain. His head always hurts after these parties, but the added stress of dealing with Amphitrite has him going nuts. He had stopped calling her "mother" years ago. Usually, he settled for "my Queen" in public, despite the whispers of how strained and formal they sounded. The Queen was a loving mother to Triton: it was only with Percy that she seemed detached. The ball had been miserable; Silena, of course, behaved with grace when they danced again later in the night, but he could sense her guard was up, it wasn't a new feeling. Most women knew immediately when the Queen disapproved. However, he didn't think that Silena was after his affections in the first place. It didn't matter; no one wanted to face the Queen's scrutiny.

It didn't stop most ladies of the court from trying. He wasn't vain; he knew the majority of them were after one thing and one thing alone: the throne. Thalia of course, was destined for the greatest power in the kingdom, so court ladies only route to a tiara was the princes of the lesser kingdoms. Percy was much more welcoming compared to his cousin and crown prince of the Noxmortia kingdom. Lost in thought, Percy missed the sound of his bedroom door opening and his maid slipping into the room.

"Your Highness, are you alright?"He notices something… different in her tone: almost as if she was suppressing giggles in the beginning of her question. He reaches up and flicks his light on before removing the pillow from his face and opening an eye. Sure it's kind of weird to be laying in the pitch dark, with a pillow over your face, and staying dead still, but shouldn't she just except his weirdness at this point, she had to have worked as a maid for sometime before she was assigned to him. He can't imagine he's the strangest person she's ever worked for.

"I'm fine, just a head ache." He explains before flopping back on to his wide variety of pillows. His bed sheets are green and blue, surprise, surprise, and no doubt exorbitantly expensive. It must be a pain in the butt for Annabeth to have to make it every day. Shoving aside those thoughts, he reminds himself he's not in any state to be sympathetic. He hears a sigh from across the room as she flicks the light back on from the opposite side of the room. Forcing one eye open, despite the piercing pain that follows the bright light, he watches her confidently stride towards him before crossing her arms across her chest.

"Sit up, all those pillows are just going to hurt your neck and make your headache worse." She orders, and without thinking, he obliges without comment. Despite the fact that, you know, he's her boss. She carefully moves a few pillows off the bed, and lays them on a loveseat nearby. Kneeling on his bed, she leans forward, and takes his hand in hers. "Try this, press your thumb and your forefinger together, and pinch the tenderest spot." He does as she says, after she points to the spot that he needs to press, and feels his headache start to fade.

"Any better?" She asks, studying him with those hypnotic grey eyes. It distinctly reminds him of the storm clouds during hurricane season, always overlapping and churning ominously. He nods, and finally speaks.

"A little, where did you learn that?" She ignores his question again and places both of her hands on the top of his head. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment, figuring she has a decent reason, especially since she's never touched him before. After waiting a few moments, she moves one hand to his forehead and the other to the opposite spot on the back of his head. A few more moments pass before she claps both of her hands over his eyes. As a reflex, he closes them, until he feels her hands lift and finds himself gazing at her expectant face. He notices, with a bit of a shock, that his headache has all but disappeared.

"Thanks, that was really helpful, how'd you learn to do that?" To his surprise, at his gratitude, his, polite yet distant, maid blushes, the color burning across her cheekbones. He watches as she bites her lip, and his eyes follow the movement a little hungrily. He shakes that thought out of his head frantically, not okay, definitely not okay, Percy. Reprimanding himself, he focuses back on her as she begins to explain.

"An old servant of my father's taught me some stuff, I think she was a spiritual healer, I don't know though, it was a long time ago." She briskly hops off his bed, before smoothing her modest dress. He tilts his head, picking over her words as she starts to make her way to the door. "If there's nothing else you desire your highness…" She trails off, and he notes the use of the word "desire", like he's spoiled and she's sick of catering to his every pointless whim, and he is spoiled of course, but very few people had the courage to point it out, even if it was just implied. He realizes he should be angered by the disrespect, but he's too captivated by her spirit. Studying her again, he realizes a strange detail.

"If your father was rich enough to have servants: what are you doing working as a maid?" She seems a little off put that he picked up on such a minute detail. She purses her lips before answering, clearly trying to decide whether to lie to a crown prince. Wisely, she decides against it.

"He disowned me." Her voice is blunt and her face reveals no emotion; she starts to leave his room again, slowly sliding out into the hallway, before he asks another question, getting over the fully intended shock frustratingly quickly.

"Why?" It isn't the first time he's heard of the wealthy disowning their children, but usually, it's for such scandalous reasons that he can't line up the knowledge with what he's observed about Annabeth. She so sweet, and kind, and modest and respectful. What could she have possible done to earn such a harsh punishment.

"I told him to." She grins as she slides out of his room, presumably to retire to bed in her own, though considerably smaller quarters. He stares, gaping at the door, for a few moments before he realizes she neither curtsied nor asked for his permission to leave: and he's thrilled. Oh yeah, he most definitely likes this girl.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Her legs swing back and forth, as she perches on the edge of the hayloft: a scrap of paper in her lap. Despite sending her weekly salary, it's rare for her to get a letter from home. She stares at Thalia's even scrawl outlining the events of the past couple weeks. Two little girls, ages six and seven respectively, Angelina and Stephanie, managed to bleach the ends of Jacob's hair, he's nine. Christina, whose eight, rode the neighbors pony for the first time, not to mention, Griffin jumped off a bridge because his friends dared him to, a small bridge thankfully. Luke laughs as he leads a graceful chestnut into her stall. As Annabeth watches, he ruffles his hair and strokes the mare's mane. Annabeth smiles before continuing with the letter, reading the groups' crazy escapades. It's only in the last paragraph, that Thalia mentions the climbing prices and money problems. Luke's jaw clenches at her words, and she feels her fingernails digging into the wood of the hayloft.

"It should get a little easier, now that I'm working directly for the Prince." She reminds him. Under her careful eye, his seems to relax and he nods in agreement. Annabeth's still uneasy, Luke's been stressing out about everything lately, and the bags under his eyes are only getting darker.

"I'll see if I can get a raise." He mutters, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn coat. Tucking a strand of loose blond curls behind her ear, she slides off the edge of the hayloft gracelessly. There's a sold thump as she hits the ground, landing on the balls of her feet, without wobbling, or spooking the horses too much.

"It'll work out, Luke." She assures him, hugging him warmly, and hiding her face in him the rough fabric of his jacket. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, before brushing a curl of hair behind her ear. In the castle, if so much as one fly away was present in her bun, frantic servants carrying hairspray would swarm her, but in the stables, she always wore her hair loose, it was such a breath of fresh air that she seriously considered sleeping in the hayloft.

"Of course it will, Annabeth." He agrees, and lets her go slowly. He slides his hands back into the pockets of his coat and rocks back on the heels of his boots. After a moment, he glances back at her. "So the Prince, huh, that's got to be interesting, right?"

"Interesting is not the way I would put it." She sighs, and slides down to the floor of the aisle with her back against the stall. Luke pours feed into each of the horses' buckets and sets about mucking the stalls. Annabeth rolls her toes in her, thankfully, closed toed shoes.

"How'd you put it?" He wonders, as Annabeth glances over her shoulder to check for unwieldy eavesdroppers. It was rare to find a person stupid enough to spy on one of the head stable hands, but she could never be quite sure in the castle.

"Stressful, confusing, frustrating, mindboggling-" She ticks off; thinking about all the problems she'd had over the past couple days. First, there's the dirty laundry that's always tangled up in the Princes' sheets. Then, there's the plant on his windowsill that he always knocks over, then attempts to vacuum it up, and manages to make the vacuum start puffing dirt out of the nozzle, instead of removing it like it should. She shakes her head, remembering the great suit incident and the brown socks with black shoes.

"I get it, Annabeth." He stops her, a little smile on his face from amusement. Her vocabularies nuts, and as she gets tired, her words seem to get bigger and bigger: unfortunately. Pulling off his work gloves, he slides down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and letting her head loll onto him. She closes her eyes and wonders if she could just go to sleep like this and hide from the Prince for a little while.

Luke thankfully traveled with her to Electria, as he was one of the few servants the Queen trusted to care for her proud horse, Poetry in Motion. It never really made sense to anyone else, as he didn't have the most experience or even the best family background. Luke didn't complain, and neither did Annabeth, she would have done anything to not be alone in the Electrian Castle. Luke was such a constant in her life, she didn't know what she'd do if he wasn't here. Idly, Luke plays with a curl of her brown hair, twirling it around his finger. She always hated her curls, but something about seeing her blonde hair on his tan skin made her stomach erupt in butterflies.

"If anyone can handle dealing with our lovely prince, it's you." He assures her, a grin playing at his lips. She rolls her eyes at the ridiculous flattery.

"That sounding suspiciously like you trash talking the royals," She raises an eyebrow, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't carry through the aisles. Luke's smile falters for a moment before he swallows loudly, as if he's trying to fit an entire sword down his throat.

"Of course not, Annabeth, you know me, I'm not stupid enough to get on their bad side." He reminds her, but there's an off note in his tone that she tries desperately to ignore.

A/N: So just a note, someone mentioned having issues with my POV's so I figured I'd clarify. I'm generally writing in Third Person Limited. Therefore, basically, you use the pronouns he/she but you only hear the thoughts of one person. The specific person changes between chapters, so it's a little higher level than other methods. Oh, and the Percy heading on the last chapter was an accident, and I don't intend to continue them. Personally, I think that making the reader stop and think a little about whose speaking, while leaving context clues to help them along is a good method to catch their attention and keep them engaged, if you disagree, share your opinion with me, and I'll take it into consideration.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**A/N: So… some people mentioned they don't like my perspective on POV's so I figured as a healthy compromise, if you really can't figure out who's narrating the chapter, you can feel free to PM me with your confusions, but I'll try to make the narrator really clear, such as: ****_Annabeth hesitates for a moment, thinking about the ramifications of what she's about to do and decides she really can't care less. Percy grins at her as she takes his hand, and her heart flutters rapidly._**** Annabeth would be the narrator in that section. Another example would be: _He waits with bated breath for her reaction, and can see her calculating out the risks in her dangerous grey eyes. For once in his life, Percy is very, very nervous._ Percy would be the narrator in this section. The "..." symbol generally indicates either time passing or a switch and POV's, and generally I won't change the POV until the break.**

The sound of his foot tapping on the chilled stone floor echoes in the empty hallway, they're late, but that's expected, right? People who deal these kinds of items in the royal palace aren't known for their punctuality. That would be a bit of a contradiction. With a sigh, the Prince leans against the hallway wall, beside a portrait of one of his stuffy relatives, long since diseased, _thankfully_; Percy didn't know if he could take much more of the obscenely dull lectures his elders always seemed to force on him. Contrary to popular belief, being a prince did have some severe down sides, namely that "whole responsibility of a kingdom" on your shoulders bit.

He'd been scolded on the topic often enough that's for sure. Amphitrite had always seemed particularly fond of discussing how much of a failure and a disappointment he was as an Heir. Great woman, that one is. The Prince can't take any more of hearing about all his responsibilities, especially marriage. If his father gave him one more uncomfortable and hypocritical discussion about the importance of finding a suitable Queen to whom he can be loyal and rule beside...he kneads the back of his neck with his hand at the thought.

"You know, they're not showing up." A voice calls from the shadows, a hint of amusement in her tone. Percy felt a smile slide on his face as he recognized her. He shakes his head ruefully and lets out a little chuckle. At the sound, Annabeth steps out of the shadows, her face set in that firm expression of hers. Her hair's up in what looks like an extremely painful bun, but a few tell-tale loose strands hint that maybe she's not always so neat and put together. "Did you really expect me to carry a letter to Connor and Travis Stroll, of all people, and not check to make sure you're not causing mischief?" She crosses her arms over her chest, and shifts her weight to one hip. Her plain brown skirt flutters just below her knees. Most women in the palace were modest, the servants more so than the nobility, but Annabeth takes it to an art form. It isn't as if she even has anything to hide, as far as he'd seen she's gorgeous. As if she feels his gaze on her, a blush starts spreading across her face, creeping down her neck, but she ignores it and clears her throat.

"I guess I didn't think that one through, but, in my defense, none of my earlier servants have had your brains." He ruffles the back of his hair, making it even messier than usual. A blush of his own spreads across his skin, heat following its path, he sure he's an unfortunate shade of red by now. The goal was to flatter her: get her to forget that he's in trouble; it doesn't work. She sends him a look that clearly reads she's heard all the flattery before, before pasting on a sickening sweet smile.

"Is there anything you need your highness?" She curtsies unnecessarily, and flutters her eyelashes at him, the sarcasm well noted. He tries to keep from smiling, and fails quite obviously.

"Yes, actually, three chickens, two roosters and a hen, cerulean paints, three pairs of shoes, a Pagan statute, three fake crowns, a torched cactus, a saddle, and a taxidermy snake…. but I think Connor and Travis are the only ones who have those connections." He shrugs and starts to head back to his room, a little unsure of how to handle this situation. He's never been in a position where he's been out played. His maids have always been way too fascinated by his status too actually fulfill their duties set by The Queen. He's never had trouble avoiding them long enough to have fun, but he has the feeling with Annabeth around, life is going to get much more difficult, interesting, but difficult. He hears her quiet footsteps behind him, until he reaches the door to his quarters, where he stops abruptly. He turns around quickly, and she stumbles back, apparently uncomfortable being too close to him. He runs his fingers idly through his hair, as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"You forgot the ladies' underwear." She reminds him. He's sure his eyes bulge out of his head, but her expression doesn't change. Despite her scandalous statement, her expression doesn't falter for a moment, other than the smirk playing across her lips. "Your original list had ladies lingerie on it, I'm surprised you forgot." No one has ever _ever_ spoken to him like that, he should be outraged at her audacity, but he can't help the grin that's growing on his face; he's impressed.

"I think I like you." He admits: that smirk of hers falters, and she takes a step back, away from him, before heading towards her own door. Without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her back to him. She yanks out of his grip and the saying "if looks could kill…"immediately comes to mind. Her grey eyes darken and churn an unintentional warning on her part. Annabeth is not a girl to mess with.

"Don't you dare touch me" Her voice is low, and practically a hiss, instilling the proper amount of fear in him. He hurriedly steps back, raising his hands up, as if displaying a "we come in peace sign". Seeing the expression on her face, his stomach drops.

"Annab-" he starts, stepping forward again, but she slips into her room, slamming the door violently behind her.

…

Anxious knots squeeze her stomach painfully as she yanks the uncomfortable blankets over herself. Suddenly sweltering, she shoves the blankets off, only to realize a few minutes later how frosty the air is. She curls into a ball, and forces her hair out of her face. Her normally neat blonde curls snarl and get stuck and she sighs in resignation. She knows the last thing she should be doing is snarling at her boss. The Prince doesn't usually care too much about foolish etiquette rules, but she can't even begin to imagine him overlooking this. All her years of hard work are hanging in the balance on one teenager. She can just imagine the look of disappointment from Thalia, and the pout on Jacob's face when he realizes they have to cut back even more than before. If it were just about Annabeth, she could handle getting fired, but it's not just about her, she has so many people relying on her. Luke's salary can't support all the kids waiting at home. They need her, they always have been able to rely on her, and that can't stop now. Giving up on sleep, she sits up and pulls her knees into her chest, trying to get control back into her life.

…

Taking a deep breath, Percy solidifies his resolve before knocking quietly on her door.

"Hello?" The voice is clearly lucid, surprisingly at this hour, but there's an off note in Annabeth's voice that he's never heard before. He slips through the door, leaving it open just a crack and standing up against the wall. He can just make out her silhouette in the dark room. A little light from the hallway reflects off her eyes, and he's surprised at how easily they find him in the darkness.

"It's just me." He assures her, then grimaces at how horribly creepy that sounds. She doesn't seem to notice.

"Is there something you need, your highness?" Unlike this afternoon, her voice contains no trace of sarcasm, and it takes him a step back as he realizes she's seriously expecting him to come in with some ridiculous whim at four a clock in the morning: not that his reasons for being here are all that much better.

"I couldn't sleep." He admits, uncomfortably trying to get his hair to lay flat. He doesn't succeed. To his surprise, Annabeth starts to get out of bed.

"Do you want me to get you a cup of tea, or different pillows, or something?" She asks, and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he watches her try to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"No, that's not it, I just… I feel so awful about what happened earlier. I had to apologize to you: I crossed a line, I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, I wasn't thinking… I'm so sorry." A Prince was never supposed to show weaknesses, even after making a mistake, he was supposed to be honest but still make it clear he's in charge, "it's one of the skills of a ruler, covering your… tail when you make a mistake" his father had told him that when he died his nurse maids hair purple. Percy knows that his apology doesn't really satisfy the requirements, but firm and collected have never really fit him very well, have they? As he watches, Annabeth freezes, and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he watches her abruptly whip around to face him

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who was out of line." Her response doesn't make much sense, but, even to Percy, the surprise in her tone is unmistakable.

"No, you weren't Annabeth, I had no right to-" Her sarcastic laugh cuts him off before he can finish the sentence.

"You, my prince, have the right to do anything, and everything." She reminds him, her voice calling out in the darkness, not knowing just how wrong she actually is.

"_I_ don't think so, but if it'll really make you feel better, we can both accept mutual blame." He suggests, a bit of a smile making itself known as relief washes over him. She doesn't hate him, she's not going to quit, he didn't screw up too badly. He watches her as he lies back down, before starting out the door, just as he's about to close it behind him, he hears her.

"Thanks Percy," So quiet, it might be her thoughts, the words do strange things to his insides. It's only when he's on his way to sleep that he realizes it's the first time she's ever called him his name, instead of his title, and he can't help but smile as he drifts off into surprisingly pleasant dreams.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"PERSEUS, don't you dare use that tone with me, young man." Amphitrite snarls, her eyes narrowing dangerously, normally, that glare was extremely effective. It's subject shrunk away and immediately and realized their place, after all, she was the queen. Unfortunately, Percy wasn't your average person. He didn't flinch, nor did he apologize profusely for his rudeness.

"With all due respect, _your majesty_, whom I marry and when I marry is none of your business." Percy answers, glancing down at his hands, indifferent to her frustration. The queen had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his dramatics. Percy always made a point of emphasizing how she wasn't his birth mother, despite the fact that she had raised him. Sure, she had always favored Triton, but Percy wasn't her son, or the heir to the kingdom, so she never had to pay much attention to him. On a good day, she didn't have to think about him at all. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case anymore. Since Triton left, Amphitrite has found that, unfortunately she has to keep a close eye on Percy: a very close eye.

"Not only is it my business, it is also the business of the entire nation of Seachester, and the fact that you can't take that seriously-" She can't help it, her tone gets sharper and sharper as it's volume increases dramatically. Suddenly, Percy doesn't seem so nonchalant about the whole affair. He stands up abruptly, his chair tipping over, and he lays his palms flat against the solid oakof the table, anger clearly written across his face.

"If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment." His jaw is tense and tight with his teeth clenched together, barely getting the words out. He slides out of the study, not bothering to look over his shoulder. Drumming her nails on the table, she sighs, before turning away and swishing out of the door, already pondering the next step of finding the prince a suitable bride.

…

Annabeth carefully wipes down the side table, before laying a soft gold lace cover over the polished wood. Standing up, she cautiously inspects her work. The prince would be back anytime now, and she's determined to be finished and out of his hair by the time he returns. Any interaction with the prince is bound to be uncomfortable at this point. She's still not sure what happened the night before, but she has the feeling lines had been crossed, and she can't go back. The thought makes her stomach twist painfully. Taking a deep breath, she glances around the room, inspecting it for imperfections. The Prince is returning from tea with the Queen and the enmity between the two of them is world-renowned. There is no doubt in her mind that the Prince will be extremely irritated once he arrives. This, along with the awkward tension, is an excellent reason to finish her duties quickly and getting out of here as soon as possible.

Behind her, the door to the Prince's quarters chrashes open, thudding against the wall with a loud _bang_; that shatters her already anxious nerves. Annabeth turns towards the door, finding herself faced with a positively fuming Percy standing in the entrance. He steps towards her and for on einsane moent, she thinks he's about to kiss her.

"Does this happen to everyone, or is it just me?" He demands, face flushed with fury. His typically entrancing eyes, alight with ferocity. "Is this because I'm a Prince, do I automatically have to deal with a psycho, who hates me, dictating my life?" Just as suddenly as the storm erupted, it dissipates, and the Prince flops onto the sofa, running his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"Sorry, you didn't deserve that." He mutters, massaging the back of his neck, supposedly to relieve stress. His gaze travels to the floor, apparently embarrassed at his outburst. Annabeth is about to cross her arms across her arms and shoot him an angry look, until she realizes how thoroughly patronizing that would come across. Their dynamic is already awkward enough, not to mention, she's sure he's already getting enough of that from Queen Amphitrite. With a deep breath, she takes a seat beside the Prince, sitting as far to the opposite side of the couch as she physically can.

"You're right, I didn't deserve that." He hastily looks up at her comment, astonishment clearly written across his handsome features, he clearly wasn't expecting her to be so blunt about it. To be honest, she wasn't expecting it herself, it's unsettling how honest she becomes when he's around. "But, it's definitely not the worst thing someone's shouted at me." The maid assures him, making an effort to soften her features. She's been told she can be intimidating at times, who would've thought it?

He muses his hair again: a little more relaxed than earlier, with a tiny grin slipping onto his face. His eyes meet hers, and lock on; to her horror, she feels an unfortunate blush creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. She hates blushing, hates it so much she's tempted to hide her face in her hands, but she refuses to seem so painfully weak. Instead, she breaks eye contact before smoothing down her pale skirts and standing briskly.

"Now, I'm sorry to say I have other matters to attend to, so I'm going to take my leave, if you don't mind, your highness." She explains, sounding courteous and lady like, despite wanting to flee from the room, and take a nice long nap. Wouldn't that be lovely? Stepping towards the door, she starts to make her way out of the room. The Prince's voice softly calls her back.

"What happened to calling me Percy?" He asks, not with the stern or demanding tone, she's come to expect from royalty over the years. She never would've imagined that the spoiled prince of Seachester would be one of the few members of the royal family who could actually act like a human being.

"It would be improper, your highness." She states, feeling like she's reading off a script, what she wouldn't give to be honest and genuine for once. Glancing over her shoulder, as she slips out the door, she catches the prince rolling his eyes. Suddenly emboldened, she tosses thr comment over her shoulder. "And for the record, it's not just royalty who have to deal with controlling parents."

…

"A spy?" King Poseidon repeats his tone disbelieving.

"You mean there's only one? That's a miracle; someone needs to give our security team a raise." Crown Princess Thalia, exclaims, her tone dripping with sarcasm. The king's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly taps it down. Thalia may only be a Princess now but she will have the most power once Zeus steps down, and the last thing he needs is to have more problems once that inevitable event occurs. The servant continues his report, as if Thalia had never spoken.

"They're reporting directly to the enemy, and we have reason to believe that they're extremely high up in the ranks, both ours, and theirs. We have yet to isolate who they are, but we're almost positive they're here in Electria, for the moment." He finishes, before shutting his notes with resignation. "We're trying, your majesty, but the spy is good, very good, and we don't know if we can even try to feed them false information." He addresses Zeus directly, until the high king gives him a brief nod as a signal to leave, once he does, conversation erupts around the room, heated discussions occurring left and right.

"We should search the servants!" One of the council members shouted, presumably the head of agriculture for the area, Demeter. Percy's voice cut through the clamor to voice his opinion.

"If we even attempt that, we won't have any servants left, and you can bet many more spies will slip in with the replacements, not to mention, the last thing we want to do is alert the spy to the fact that we know they're here." Percy reasons, surprising everyone, especially his father. Pride swells in the king's chest, one day Percy will make a great king, glancing towards his wife, he assures himself that, despite the Queen's reservations Percy is the perfect heir. All that's missing is a queen to rule at his side. As the meeting is adjourned, and Percy briskly makes his way in the direction of the stables, the king's mind is whirling, running through many possibilities. The spy is the last thing on his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The king smiles as his son approaches. Percy bows obediently and waits for his father's direction, Percy was always diligently respectful towards his father, at least before they began speaking. Percy has no issue challenging his father's opinion when he feels appropriate. Which wasn't often, but it happened often enough to allow raised eyebrows when signs appear in public. A rebellious teenage crown prince is just what the king needs to further deepen his wrinkles.

"Rise, my son" The king instructs jovially, as far as he's concerned everything would be working out promptly, and on an easy schedule. His lightheartedness fills the room, but Percy's stoic express doesn't falter. He's suspicious, no doubt, and rightfully so; Poseidon and his son's relationship was decidedly distant but it was especially rare for the crown prince to be called into the throne room in the middle of the day. Usually the king was much too busy settling disputes to make time to arraign for a meeting with Percy.

"Thank you, father," Percy murmurs, his father is one of the few people he actually, genuinely respected. Though they didn't always agree, the Prince knew his father has his heart in the right place. Not many other people could claim that, especially nobles.

"I have good news." The king positively beams, and Percy seems to get caught up in his elation.

"What?" His patience is clearly waning for his father's theatrics, but he isn't done yet.

"Great news for the kingdom, for the nation most likely, it is incomprehensible how far the effect of this will reach." The king continues, almost as if he had not heard his son at all. He's so swept up in the impact of what he's about to say that he almost misses the prince rolling his eyes at his father's unnecessary grandeur, the key word being almost, of course. The King lets the suspense build for a moment before he continues.

"I have finally found you a suitable queen."

…

The prince's jaw drops in shock. This isn't happening; this _can't_ be happening. For god's sakes, his father can't be serious. A bride? Right now? He knew the pressure had been on to find a wife but he hardly thought the king would make the decision for him, the queen might have but certainly not his father. His flesh and blood shouldn't entirely misunderstand him this way. He isn't ready for marriage, he's not ready to rule, and he certainly isn't ready for the pressure of having to secure an heir. Creating a family with some stranger that he's never met. God forbid if he has met her, what would happen if he knew , oh please, please don't let it be Thalia.

"no" His voice is as quiet as the swish of a gentle breeze on the ocean and his father doesn't even hear him over his own voice.

"She's the perfect fit, absolutely perfect for our situation-, "The king continues: an expression of unadulterated excitement on his face.

"No!" Percy repeats, louder this time, and his voice echoes across the throne room. His father's stunned expression reaches him and his stomach twists and knots. "With all due respect, your majesty, I can't just marry a girl you pick out at random." His father's expression hardens.

"You can and you will do whatever is for the best of this kingdom." Poseidon's expression hardens, matching his clipped tone, but Percy refuses to look away.

"A random woman I've never met will not be best option to rule beside me." Percy's jaw clenches, trying to keep his expression stony.

"Exactly the point, Perseus, if you've never met her, you have no way of knowing if she should be your queen." The full name was out and there's no stopping now. No one ever called the Prince by his full name, except his father, and even then, it was only when he truly meant business.

"I know well enough that you select my wife as if your picking out cantaloupes at the market!" Percy has t strain himself from shouting at his father, how could he be so obtuse.

"We don't have time for any other solution. I'm almost certain that she will agree to your proposal, as soon as she receives it." The king argues, his tone unwavering. He seems like he won't budge from an arranged marriage, but there's absolutely no way Percy will agree to one.

"Time is not one of our worries, father, my coronation isn't until I turn eighteen!" Percy reminds him, that's almost two years off, he most definitely shouldn't have to worry about that now. Now should just be thinking about enjoying himself, drinking in the benefits of being a prince.

"That may be so, but a Crown Prince who is not married long before his coronation is no better than an unmarried one." Poseidon preaches, seemingly determined to get through to his stubborn son. Percy felt his powerful defense crumbling and his anger left him.

"I _have_ to do this my way, father." Percy pleads, if there's anything that can't be decided for him it must definitely be whom he marries. The king's hard expression falters for just a moment.

"I'll give you till your birthday to find a queen, Percy, after that you will marry the woman I choose, do you understand?" The king challenges, and Percy hesitates for a moment. His seventeenth birthday is only months away: almost no time at all. Yet, if he can find her, he won't have to be wed to a horrid, gold digging harpy for the rest of his life. Without letting himself consider it further, he nods to his father before bowing low.

"Thank you, your Majesty." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the king gesture for him to leave the throne room. As he slips out, he realizes the deal he just made and all of its repercussions. Four months, four months is all he has to find a wife. A wife! At seventeen! The idea is insane. It's not an uncommon age to get married, in fact many nobles are wed sooner than that. Girls generally get married even sooner. He felt like banging his head against a wall. How on earth was he to find a bride? He didn't want this; he didn't want any of this. What part of that didn't they understand?

There were no good choices, were there? Four months is no time at all. More likely than not, he would wind up with some witchy woman intent on the crown with no care for how she gets it. Is it truly a naïve notion to believe a woman would want to marry him just purely because of his character, instead of his title? Irritated with the suddenly confining palace walls he storms down the hallway without a second thought.

…

Annabeth's mood fills the energy in the stable, as perches on the rail to the stall Luke is in the process of mucking out. If she had it her way, she'd be in their helping him, but he refused to accept it, convinced it was somehow beneath her. Quite often, she longed to be mucking out a stall instead of her current job.

"I'm genuinely worried about her Luke, she hates it here, we both know she does, no matter what she says." She sighs, her head resting on the wooden beam beside her.

"We both know she'd prefer to be back home with us, but for now she's stuck here." He reminds her, his jaw tight with frustration, Annabeth knew him to well enough to not mistake that expression as being directed at her. She had listened to enough of his angry rants to know exactly how he felt about their friend's current situation.

"I don't-" She starts, but is cut off when a positively fuming Prince barges into the stables and stalks to the stall at the end of the aisle. Blackjack snorts in greeting and stamps his hoof as if to prove he's ready to go. Luke scrambles out of the stall, and hurries to Percy.

"Your highness, please allow me to ready him for you." He offers, the picture of humility. Only Annabeth could've noticed the off note in his voice.

"My prince, is there anything you need?" Annabeth asks, hurriedly fixing her hair into a bun and glancing down with worry at the tattered pants she had decided to wear that day.

"I thought I told you…" He starts but rolls his eyes, and hurriedly brushes down Blackjack's dark coat, before rapidly attaching all the required tack. "I'm going out, I could be gone late, and I don't really know where I'm going." He grumbles, mainly to Annabeth, who they're both aware is keeping tabs on him for the queen.

"I can't, your highness, I'm not allowed to let you just take off into the countryside on your own" She protests, and he ignores her, mounting his horse with unforeseen grace.

"Then don't," He suggests, "if you can't let me go off alone then get on the horse, Annabeth." He holds out his hand to help her up, and she panics glancing between him and Luke frantically. Oh lord, all she wanted was one day of peace.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"…Get on the horse Annabeth," He challenges. She eyes his outstretched hand warily: seemingly weighing the pros and cons as she glances between the prince and the stable hand beside her. He's tall, taller than his superior, with sandy blond hair, and broad shoulders. Unabashedly, Percy eye's the scar running down his face with trepidation, as he watches, the older boy places his hand on Annabeth's elbow and she glances up at him, surprised, but she doesn't seem repulsed or angry by his touch.

The prince clears his throat, attempting to regain her attention. He never usually has to fight so hard to be noticed. Being a prince tended to warrant unyielding attention. Her unwavering grey eyes study Blackjack beneath him, and he practically hears the gears turning in her head. Her eyes churn so much more intensely from up close. He's surprised, there's so much depth in her eyes, depth no one would expect from a common maid. Without a doubt, she's shown him she is much, much more than just a servant.

As if reading Percy's mind and he wouldn't be surprised if she had; something changes in her eyes, a sense of certainty that settles like cement. Her hand reaches out and clasps around his much larger one. A tiny part of him wishes that he hadn't pulled on his leather riding gloves, just so he wouldn't have to wonder what it would feel like to touch her. As Percy watches, she swings herself up beside him, and settles easily into her seat. Her small arms wrap around his middle, and he feels her twist a little to look at her companion.

"When I get back..." She assures, him, as the prince digs his heels into Blackjacks' sides, urging him on. He steps out of the stable, and with a surge of speed, Percy guides him into a canter, taking off across the fields. As the gate changes, he feels her slip for a second and he almost stops, for fear she has fallen off, but then she pulls herself closer to him. Her warm body pressing into his elicits an unexpectedly intense sensation. Chills travel down his arms and Percy feels the softest brush of her warm breath on the back of his neck. Blinking his eyes and taking a steady breath, he tries to focus.

He hears the tell-tale huff of Blackjack below and is tempted to raise an eyebrow at the horse's antics. Trained as a warhorse, with pounds and pounds of heavy armor on his back and he can't gather the energy to canter with only the extra weight of a lean teenage girl. Rolling his eyes, he digs the heels of his worn boots, which Amphitrite hates, in a little more and squeezes his thighs to show him he means business, he practically hears Blackjack grumble in protest, but he picks up from his lazy canter. Percy guides him into the woods, pattering through a trail, and lets him slip into a brisk walk due to the rocky path. Annabeth chooses that moment to relax her grip, and a tiny part of the prince wishes he had switched to a gallop instead.

* * *

She had ridden before, you'd be hard pressed to find a girl in the kingdom who hadn't ridden at least once in her life, but they almost always rode side-saddle, and Annabeth had never had come into contact with anything other than the small farm pony, one the kids had saved up for over the course of three years. She had learned a lot in the years at the palace, and had plenty of new experiences but war horses were not something maids were allowed to handle.

Luke on the other hand, did this for a living, while he often had to clean tack and muck stalls, the reason Luke is so favored by the queen is because of the way he handles horses. Only when it's absolutely necessary is he permitted to even contemplate riding any of the precious and strategically bred horses, but he works with one or another almost constantly. When the royal family chooses not to ride them, it's important that they still get some exercise; so of course, the help is obligated to take care of them. No one would even suggest that a noble partake in such plebian activities. Luke ranted about the topic more often than Annabeth cared to admit.

The Prince it seemed was not one of those nobles who kept a stable full of the finest horses solely for prestige. She peeks over his shoulder, watching his hands slip from the reins for a moment to gently smooth his hands over the dark as night coat of the horse beneath her. She wonders for a moment if the prince is even remotely aware that she's there, despite her arms around him. The wind whips through her loose hair, despite the shelter of the Prince's back.

She wasn't expecting to be so enraptured by just simple things like his mannerisms and posture. The royals she had noticed riding over the years sat straight-backed, making a big deliberate show of their actions, and rarely allowing them to relax or enjoy themselves whilst riding. Despite his high status, Percy slouched in the saddle, seeming comfortable, and every movement he did make was subtle and not pompous.

The pair arrived at a gap between the trees and the horse burst forward with unexpected speed, flying over the ground at a pace that was both energizing and terrifying at the same. She didn't want to cling to the prince like some silly little girl, and it certainly wouldn't be proper, but when it becomes clear that the loose hold she had around him and her leg muscles wouldn't be enough to keep her seated, she leans forward and tighten her grip on his middle, pressing into him in a way that is entirely improper and not something any lady should do, let alone a maid working for the royal court. That's the last thing on Annabeth's mind as Blackjack becomes a blur of black and easily clears a fallen tree in the stretch of clearing they're flying through. Gritting her teeth, she presses a little closer so she can speak to him, and murmurs softly into his ear.

"Do you have a goal in mind, or am I just chaperoning a trail ride?" The slight note of irritation in her tone is impossible to miss. The prince ignores her, which of course he has every right to do, but still, it's just a tad bit irksome, she leans back a little, until they go hurtling over a stream. For a moment, as she presses herself to him without reservation once again, she wonders if the prince is doing this on purpose. He wouldn't be so brazen, probably.

Blackjack continues his breakneck speed, tossing his mane in the wind. Percy laughs, a lighthearted, joyous sound, and his companion can't help the smile the sneaks onto her face. The wind tosses her blonde curls around, creating a horrifying mess, no doubt, but as her fear ebbs away, adrenaline, and exhilaration rapidly takes its place. There was a strange kind of freedom racing through the fields like this. None of the angst and anxiety about work, Luke, and what's happening back home seems to matter as much. It takes effort, but she shuts off her mind refuses to think, just letting herself feel for a while.

The prince's warmth feels good up against her and she allows herself to enjoy it for a moment. Breathing in his clean, fresh scent, she smiles again. Unlike lots of other nobles, Percy didn't reek of exotic spices shipped in from all over the world, thankfully. Snuggling into his back, and ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that's asking why she's clinging to him. The steady rhythm of the horse beneath her makes her wonder if they can just ride like this forever. Sometimes there were benefits to being a maid after all.

…

The rumble of water slowly makes its presence known over Blackjacks hooves coming into contact with the ground. The prince reluctantly drags his attention away from the blonde plastered to him, despite her hands spread across his abdomen. It wasn't as if he's inexperienced, just… there's something different about Annabeth, something painfully different and real, most of all real.

He slows Blackjack to a trot, and entered the tree line again. Annabeth leans back, and almost seems disappointed. Just before he knew the trees would break and he'd reach his destination, he dismounts smoothly. His feet hit the ground solidly, and just as he stretches out his hand to help her down, she mimics him, fluidly hopping off without a thought. It would've almost been irritating if it weren't so impressive.

"May I ask where we are, your highness?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, and narrowing her eyes. It's amazing how she can make such a normally modest and respectful statement sound so hostile. If it weren't for her windswept hair, he'd almost think they had gone back in time. He genuinely thought she seemed to get more comfortable as he rode, but the closed off expression on her face seem to tell him differently.

He doesn't respond, guessing no answer might be the best answer in this case, and gestures for her to follow him, slipping into the trees.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Annabeth has to stop herself from showing how truly common she is when she sees the clearing. Following the prince, she steps out onto the cliff and is entirely stunned by the sight before her. Bright flowers adorn the ground at her feet but she doesn't focus on them, despite their obvious beauty, there is too much to see, and she's much too busy being entranced by the sight directly in front of her. Rushing water cascaded over the rocks, flowing down and falling into the pond below the pair. Reluctantly pulling her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of the waterfall itself, she stares I awe at the fauna surrounding it. Flowers in all sorts of colors, and arching trees line the area above the cliffs, until a couple of inches of soft sand which lines the edges of the pond until the solid rock. The water flows into the area, before making a sharp turn and heading at almost a right angle along its way.

"The pool was the beginning of somebody's construction project, a church I think, until a storm caused the river to flood and start taking a new route. The area was abandoned, until I found it when I was seven on my first trip to Electra." Percy explains, and she jumps a little, having forgotten about him in the face of all the beauty. "As far as I know, outside you and I, there's only one person who knows about this place." At her quizzical look he answers, "My squire at the time, was with me." He admits. She nods, still transfixed by the beauty around her, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees the prince fidgeting with the scabbard of his sword, so much so that, it starts to slip from the proper place on his belt. With reluctance, she turns back to him, sure that look of commoners' awe is still plastered to her face pathetically.

"So, what do you think?" She doesn't pay attention to the question at first because she's too transfixed by the flowers behind him that she hadn't noticed before. What she picks up on first is his tone. As a servant, you have to be very careful with tone. A sharp tone will mean it's necessary for her to keep your head down and work quickly. A warm tone can allow for a little more relaxation on her part. When a noble's tone is stressed, she could offer assistance, or get out of there, depending on the circumstance. Percy's tone wasn't any of these, unless Annabeth's mistaken, there's something dangerously nervous in his voice. Something that should not have been in a prince's tone. Something that had her stomach doing somersaults and her heart trying to mimic the gallop of a race horse. His eyes were suddenly much too green and much too innocent looking. The regal prince façade was slipping steadily and she wasn't sure what would happen if it fell away all together.

…

Her face lights up as they enter the grove. She took in the waterfall and pond below with her mesmerizing eyes. Lingering on some areas longer than others, she smiled slightly and abruptly he felt strangely insecure. As if he had bared his soul instead of just a place, he fidgeted, unable to meet her eyes. Gathering his meager courage, he caught her attention and forced his mouth to form the words despite the lack of oxygen reaching his brain.

"So, what do you think?" He asks, grimacing when he hears how non-prince-like that sounds.

"It's a different world." She answers after a moment and for once he completely understands what she means.

…

A grin breaks out across his face and she bites her lip to keep from grinning back at him. The innocent expression does strange things to her emotional barriers, especially when he continues.

"Wait till you see this!" He calls, tearing off along the cliff of the grove. For a moment she just watches him and the carefree way he moves, before taking off after him. As the foliage whips by, she runs her fingers through the green leaves. She could just see Percy in front of her, his long legs propelling him along the edge. Her foot slips slightly and she's immensely glad for her practical shoes.

After another moment, he stops and through the spray she can just see the edge of the waterfall. He grins and gestures for her to follow before sliding along the edge of the cave wall. Looking up she see the thin outcrop that sit just above the prince, sheltering the path from the gushing water. Nervously, she starts to protest, slipping back into the responsible maid much too quickly, but her voice is drowned out by the thunder of the fall. With a deep breath, she follows him.

…

The ledge is slippery and for a moment he considers warning Annabeth to be careful. He gets as far as opening his mouth before he remembers the crashing water just in front of the pair. Taking a peek at her face, he sees she is clearly nervous and anxiously eyeing the fall less than an arm's length away from her face. Without thinking too much, because the prince was well aware if he had thought about it, he wouldn't have followed through, he takes her hand in his to offer support. She turns to him, surprised at first, before nodding and pasting on a neutral expression.

As it always does, Percy's heart races as he slides along, the adrenalin at taking such ar risk by being in such a precarious environment pounding through his veins. He could just imagine Amphrite's reaction if she knew the heir was taking such a chance. He glances at the girl beside him and decides sometimes a risk is just what you need.

…

Percy's hand tightened a little as she once again eyed the water in front of her. One slip and she's dead, one slip and Annabeth Chase will no longer exist, and the maid will be forgotten. To her relief, the wall opened up a little, going deeper into the rock, and farther away from the water, even though the overhang above stayed where it was. Taking in the small cavern, immediately behind the center of the waterfall; her breath caught. The walls were dotted with little flecks of stone that caught the little light and reflected it back at her. Some light filtered through the waterfall behind her, barely bathing the room in the luminescent glow.

Percy gently pulls her over to the back corner where a blanket, which Percy must have laid out a few days ago, rests. He sat with his back to the wall, wedged into the corner, and she sat beside him, glad once again, that she had not worn a dress that day, as she pulled her knees up into her chest. Most of her hair had come loose from her hasty bun, but she couldn't find any desire to care.

"My prince?" She murmurs after a few minutes of silence and he whips towards her, his eyes ablaze.

"_Please_, do not call me that, not here." His tone sounds rough, almost desperate, and she nods, unable to do anything else, not when he's looking at her like that.

"Of course… Percy." It took a ridiculous amount of effort to get the little word out, but it seems to appease him as he leans back and closes his eyes.

"This is the one of the few places where I can be anything outside of the Prince of Seachester. No one can order me around or dictate everything I do when I'm here. I need that." He confesses, and as surprised as she is by his admission, she's glad he said it, as she takes his hand in hers, and slides a little closer to him. She doesn't know what to say to that, so she just keeps quiet for a while. As he gently runs his thumb over her knuckles, she closes her eyes and prepares herself for what she's about to say.

"My father had always been… distracted… and it didn't change when I was born. His second wife wasn't pleased with me, just because she knew I reminded my father of my mother... she told him his best option was to marry me to another: wealthier, merchant, despite the fact that I was barely thirteen then." Percy didn't stop his movements but she could tell he was listening intently and it felt excellent to admit all of this. "When I protested, he told me I could either go along peacefully with the plan, or he would disown me, so… I told him to disown me." His thumb paused now and she thought for a moment she had finally scared him off.

"That was very brave of you." He told her and just "hmm"ed in response, not really believing it. Rolling her shoulders, the lack of sleep from the previous few nights finally catches up with her and her eyelids droop a little as she leans back against the wall behind her. A light draft passes through the room and when she breathes in Percy's scent she jerks up, remembering her place.

"I'm sorry, that was disrespe-" She starts but he shakes his hand hushes her, gently pulling her back.

"I feel bad for stealing you away on your day off, you deserve some rest." He tells her, and surprises her even more when he shifts her so her head lies on his shoulder. "Just go to sleep for a while." And to her surprise, she does just that.

A/N: I wrote the majority of this when I was on vacation... without wifi so I'm sorry for the lateness of my update, I've had a crazy couple weeks, my updates should speed up shortly.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks to my Beta, MissIndePENdent20 for your contributions.

Chapter Eleven

A maid isn't supposed to be this pretty. In no way shape or form should the help stand out or make itself noticeable. Percy's maid seems to have missed that little detail. Even with her eyelids covering her most dynamic and hypnotic feature, the prince is still captivated by her innocent brand of captivating. He'd even go as far as think that she might be even prettier in her sleep. The stress that usually holds her features in such a strangling grasp is nowhere to be found, and her serene expression has his insides doing strange things. She shifts slightly in her sleep, further nestling her face into the crook in her neck. His arm is starting to fall asleep from its awkward position wrapped around her shoulder, and he flexes his fingers to try to chase away the tingling sensation. Despite the minor discomfort, the prince feels all the stress of the last few days slip away, sliding out of him, coursing down his limbs before swishing away with the waterfall in front of him.

His eyes skim over the intricate swirls crisscrossing along the cave's walls, tracing their intricate patterns as they meander along the surface of the rough stone. Small flecks of minerals catch the light and reflect it back, detailing the surface with subtle sparkles more beautiful than the collection of gems in the royal stores, at least, that's the prince's opinion. Time seems to slow down, whip by, and stop all together when he visits his sanctuary, and this time is no different; his thoughts drift and swirl, refusing to stress on any singular topic, and his mind just skimming over more pleasant ideas, until the maid on his shoulder stirs. She shifts slightly, sliding away from his side, and as her warmth leaves, a slight chill replaces her comforting presence, and the prince can't help but yearn for her to stay. He studies her face carefully as her eyelids finally crawl open, exposing her silky eyes, slightly hazy with sleep and her pale pink lips slip into a contented smile. He smiles back, remembering all too well, the drifting place between dreaming and reality, where everything seems to flourish in a warm golden glow.

As he watches, something seems to register behind her eyes and she drags herself up and away from his side, much to Percy's distaste. She rubs her eyes, and shakes her head, blonde curls whipping around her face; he decides in that moment that he likes her hair better when it is loose and unbound compared to her constricting knots. She stretches, rolling her shoulders, before yawning delicately, and he watches the movement lazily. Her worn pants, scuffed shoes, and easy cotton shirt, seem so out of character compared to her usual uniform of below the knee, swishing skirts, and formal blouses. Something about how she looks now, so comfortable in her own skin, shinning through such superficial appearances; makes her seem all the more real, as if this was who she really is, not the façade she presents back at the palace. She runs her hand through her hair, seemingly oblivious to his close observation, before turning back to him and speaking her mind.

"How long have we been here, your highn- Percy," she catches herself before she can finish but the pressure on his shoulders floods back all the same. He takes a deep breath as his worries about the impending four-month deadline and the spy hidden among the servants crash around him. With the reminder of the deceit unfolding, he glances back at Annabeth, before mentally kicking himself for his idiotic notions and paranoid delusions, and reminding himself of her question.

"I'm not sure honestly," he admits, running a hand through his own hair a little anxiously, he doesn't like the self-conscious feeling that overwhelms him when she looks at him with those observant eyes. "It's hard to tell in here, time doesn't seem to matter so much." Annabeth makes a soft sound in agreement before standing up, and gesturing to the exit.

"We should go…" she stumbles as if the word got stuck somewhere between thinking it and actually saying it, "Percy." She bites her lip, and he gets the feeling that while clearly more comfortable with him now, they've still got a long way to go in the grand scheme of things.

The ride home passes by in a rapid blur, occasioning punctuated by Percy shifting his weight and moving behind her, once again stirring the goose bumps and sparks derived from his proximity. His arms wrap around his maid, gripping the reins in front of her, and the close contact has her very skin trembling at the chills she feels just from his breath on her neck. There was something so deliciously right about all of this, something so intoxicatingly perfect, that it had the potential to be alarmingly dangerous to the pair in the long run.

The sun is rapidly fading behind the trees around them, and it seems impossible that she could've slept so long. Despite her disbelief, the time has passed, and she's well aware of how their late arrival will look, and how much worse it would be perceived if they don't get back before nightfall.

The prince's horse slows to a stop at the entrance to the stable, and he dismounts first, once again providing an offer of help, which she refuses, finding it easy enough to land cleanly. She quickly yanks her hair up, hoping it will hide some of the chaotically churned look she's sure her nap created. As Percy races through removing all of his horse's tack, she anxiously glances around, hoping to find Luke, despite how unlikely it is that he'd have waited up for her. When she turns back to the Prince, he's watching her, and something in his eyes makes her doubt that he has any misconceptions about what, or who, in this case, she was looking for.

Glancing back at Blackjack; who's safely tucked away in his stall, seeming content to rest some after a long day, she swallows anxiously before responding, "Shall we go then, Percy?"

"So it's 'Percy' now is it?" A cold voice calls out to them, sending chills down Annabeth's spine as she realizes how unfortunately familiar the voice is.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks again to my beta MissIndePENdent20, and my apologies for the lateness of my update, I was away for vacation. I will be return to updating at an interval of 16 days (yes, there is a method to my madness... I have four active stories).

Chapter 12

Annabeth slowly turns towards the voice, dread pooling in her stomach as she casts her eyes down. The light, airy feelings from earlier drop like a concrete blocks, and she hurries to recover.

"May I assist you in some way my Queen?" She hates the way she sounds right now, she absolutely hates it. She feels as if she sounds less and less like a human every time she has to say one of her scripted niceties. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the Prince turn towards her with a strange expression written on his face.

"Come," Amphitrite orders without an explanation to the maid. She steps forward, about to follow soundlessly, when she hears Percy clear his throat in an undignified manner. She turns her head slightly towards him and something seems to break, crumpling into a little ball, as he meets her eyes; confusion and anger written across his expression.  
"That is, of course, if you have no need for her?" The Queen's raised eyebrow is clearly meant as a challenge; if Percy were to try to stop her, it would hurt both of them in the long run. So, he slowly shakes his head, and gestures for her to go. As she turns and follows the queen out of the stable, he feels his hard gaze on her back.

"Was there something you required of me, your Majesty?" the maid repeats when she opens the door to the Queen's private chambers. Unsurprisingly, there's no hint of bitterness or anger directed towards her superior. As long as the Queen had known her, this maid has always managed to keep her emotions under wraps, as she should. A good servant didn't show her thoughts, as it was not right to burden your supervisor with such petty things. The girl had made a wise decision to not display the outrage the queen knew was lurking just under the surface. If she had shown even the slightest hint of emotion for the prince, she would be out of the palace, bags in hand, and all dignity left behind. A servant must always suffer in silence. Pulling out of her churning thoughts, the queen turned towards the girl, fixing a stern expression onto her features.

"Do you remember the reason you were assigned to your position?" The queen asks: her tone even and measured, that of an investigator interrogating a suspect. The trap is properly rigged, just waiting to be triggered by the slightest misstep from the young girl poised so humbly in front of Amphitrite.

"To serve the prince and allow for his Majesty and you, my queen, to monitor his actions." The girl surprises her, due to the fact that her response is verbatim for the instructions the queen, herself, had given the maid, weeks ago. A slight smile graces the Queen's face at the girl's uncommon intelligence, especially due to her low standing in society. When she applied, she had stated she was an orphan and raised by fellow street mongrels, with no proper training until her arrival at the palace, but that statement is appearing more and more doubtful by the minute. Filing away that train of thought for further pondering, the queen continued with her line of questioning.

"You were hired to spy on the prince and report back to me with any misbehavior that warrants my knowledge. Also, to report any women who are attempting to weasel their way to the throne." The almost unnoticeable finch from the maid was what first alerted the Queen to her anger slipping into her tone, but she found herself unable to stop before she finished. "In what world does that entitle becoming a love-sick floozy completely oblivious to her own standing and the impropriety of the situation?" The words were harsh, but necessarily so, in her Majesty's opinion. The girl in front of her just nods in compliance, not attempting to defend herself or her actions in the slightest. Her eyes are even lowered to the ground, the perfect image of servitude.

"My apologies, your majesty; it was not my intent to disobey you." She curtsies with her statement, and keeps her eyes trained on the stone floor by the Queen's feet. Amphitrite eyes the girl's crumpled blonde locks which are clumsily knotted at the top of the girl's head. Then her gaze travels to the maid's slightly rumpled clothes, but clean face and neck, unblemished from other activities. The Queen muses that the incident might have only been a ride; perhaps this maid is, in fact, deserving of a second chance. It's rare to find an intelligent and level-headed maid, especially one who could still be pulled away from her duties to cater to the Prince's near constant whining.

Despite having his own page, due to his status as a knight, the Prince rarely called upon him to keep up his personal chambers, instead he insisted on having a personal maid, and succeeded in charming them into puddles of nodding, bumbling, girlish goop. While clearly having forgotten her station, this girl still seems remarkably solid, and not even moderately goop-like. With her assessments in mind, the Queen turns away from the trembling girl to admire one of the paintings hanging from the ruby red wall.

"You may return to your work." Her tone is final, but unsurprisingly, the sound of a door closing does not reach her Majesties ears. "Did I misspeak?" The Queen asks, glancing over her shoulder at the predictably befuddled maid. Her eyes are wide and she's frozen with her knees half bent, as if she's not sure whether she should be curtsying. "You are to return to your duties, but make no mistake the slightest misstep will have you sent packing faster than you can say 'I'm sorry, my Queen'."

"Thank you, your Majesty." She curtsies again, sounding genuinely thankfully as she gracefully rises to her full height.

"Now, you are dismissed, I must wait for my king's return." The servant nods, slipping out of the room with just the slight creak of the door as the indicator of her departure.

Once she had left, Amphitrite allows herself to muse over the girl. She had always had respect for Annabeth, always hearing positive things about the determined girl. Her background was not uncommon, in the outer provinces, the orphan rate was disturbingly high, but it was rare to see someone so pulled together and refined, despite their regrettable circumstances, such strength was admirable, especially in someone so young.

It's so difficult at that age; the Queen remembers well the challenges of being a young woman, and not yet married. Luckily for Amphitrite, she was relatively protected as a noblewoman. She smiles as she remembers Poseidon's early attempts at courtship, being much to forward, she didn't accept, of course, and fled to stay with a relative. He sent a page to beg for her to return, and after the king's friend had repeatedly pled his case, she agreed to return. The second try was much more successful in the long run. ****

The stable was eerily empty when Annabeth went searching for Percy, and when she returned to his quarters, the lights were out and the door was closed, a sure sign that he didn't want to see her. It suddenly is painfully clear that the incident with his mother was just as much of a wake-up call to the prince as it was to his maid.

She slid silently into her humble quarters, feeling downtrodden and broken as she did so. There is nothing like being treated like an equal, only to be treated as a lesser being moments later, to add lead weights to a girl's step.

Just as she was about to retire to bed, the soft sound of sliding parchment carried into her bedroom. Uncertain who would be leaving her letters at this time of night, the maid carefully patted into to her entry room, eyeing the letter just in front of her door. She bends down and hesitantly picks up the envelope, and when she finally sees the tell-tale, jagged script. Her face lights up, practically joyous to receive a letter from such a close friend, for the script could only belong to one person; Crown Princess, Thalia Grace.

*** Loosely based on actual myth


End file.
